Blame Game
by S J Smith
Summary: It wasn't Ed's fault! Rezembool Trio interaction, before Ed and Al start off on their quest.


Title: Blame Game

Author: S J Smith

Series: Any

Word Count: 999

Rating: Teen

Characters: Ed, Al, Winry

Summary: It's not Ed's fault he's impatient.

Warnings: N/A. Takes place before Ed joins the military but after he and Al try to bring Trisha back. Written for the live journal community, FMA Fic Contest, for the prompt, "Well, that wasn't supposed to happen". It took third place.

* * *

"Stay." Winry pointed a finger at Ed, who gnashed his teeth.

"I'm not a dog!"

"Ha!" was her witty rejoinder as she left the room, muttering something he didn't quite catch about a three-sixteenths socket wrench.

Ed flapped his hand in approximation of Winry's mouth. The girl went on and on about his automail and how it had to be fitted just right and it. Felt. Fine. Winry was being a worrywart and he needed to get back on his feet so he could go join the military. Ed flexed his fingers, curling them in to his palm one by one then wriggled his toes. See? Fine. Not waiting any more, Ed dashed for the front door, hurtling out of it with an exuberant yell, effectively scattering Pinako's chickens as he plunged off the porch.

Al glanced up from where he rubbed Den's belly, making the old dog wriggle. "Finished with your maintenance, Brother?"

In answer, Ed leaped into the air, leading with his left heel. Al blocked the aerial kick with his forearm, metal ringing against metal, sending Ed tumbling over the ground in a forward somersault. Using that momentum to spring into a handstand, he forced his body to arc back over. Ed straightened, right hand rigid and protecting his face, left hand wrapped in a hammer fist, waiting for Al's attack.

Al took two strides forward, left foot lashing out. Ed blocked the blow, following it up with a kick to Al's chestplate. The hollow body armor rang like a bell. Al snatched Ed's ankle before he could pull it back, pushing that leg up, making the automail whine and click. "Too slow, Brother," Al gloated.

Overbalanced, Ed landed on his back, scrambling to get some leverage. Al kept pushing and Ed went with it, curling his spine until he spun in a backward somersault. Planting his hands, Ed kicked up with his free leg. A resounding gong told him he'd made contact even as Al shouted, "Not cool!" and let him go. Bending his elbows, Ed shoved hard at the ground, using that to send him back on his feet and a few paces away from Al. He shook his bangs out of his eyes, grinning to see Al fussing to put his helmet to rights.

Al was distracted but, hey, no one ever said war was fair. Ed took one step forward, gaining the momentum he needed. Planting his right foot, he pivoted on the ball of it, his left leg curled up to his body as he jumped. Arms close to his chest, Ed spun in the air for his roundhouse kick. As he reached the arc of his leap, Ed snapped his left leg out.

His execution was flawless except for one little thing –

- the automail separating from his thigh with a loud 'pop!' -

- the leg spinning completely past Al's helmet, tumbling, useless, toward the ground -

- the thought, iWell, that wasn't supposed to happen!/i darting through Ed's mind -

- the ground coming up way too fast for Ed to regain his balance -

- and a sudden blackness overcoming everything.

Ed opened his eyes with a gasp. Winry and Al hovered over him, Al's fingers curled and hands shaking. "Brother, are you all right?"

"You idiot!" Winry shouted at the same time.

"My automail came off! How the hell did that happen? I thought you were maintaining it!" He sat up, all the better to scream in Winry's face. "What the hell were you doing?"

"I told you to stay there until I got my wrench!" Winry bellowed.

"You didn't tell me I'd lose my leg!" This wasn't his fault. It iso/i wasn't his fault.

"You didn't ask!" Winry howled back.

Edward raged. "I shouldn't need to! You should've told me that it wasn't attached properly!"

"It was attached properly! The bolts needed tightening, is all!" Winry shook the leg at Ed. "And now it's dinged!"

"It's dinged! What about me? What if I was fighting for my life, huh? What good would it be if my leg sailed off without me!" Edward stabbed a finger at his leg.

Winry smacked him over the head with the automail, sending him facedown in the grass, and stomped back to the house. "If I'd finished my maintenance, it wouldn't have!"

Ed sat up, spitting dirt. "I need that leg, Winry!" He was not going to crawl after her. "WINR-oof!" He grunted as Al picked him up by his middle, hauling him toward the house. "I should've beaten you! It's Winry's fault I lost!"

"Right, Brother." Al carried him up the steps and into the house, turning sideways a little so he didn't bash Ed's head against the wall. "Or you could actually pay attention when Winry tells you something?"

"Nng!" Ed scowled, barely letting Al set him back on the couch where Winry'd left him earlier. A part of him knew Al – and Winry – were right but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. Folding his arms across his chest, Ed became a sulk, glowering at Winry, his leg cradled in her arms.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Ed tried not to react when she set his leg down. It was so weird knowing that piece of metal was a part of him, and Winry handled it like it was, well, hers. "I know you're in a hurry, Ed, but some things, you need to slow down for." She lined up his leg with the port in his thigh and pushed it home with a 'click'. "Like proper maintenance. I won't always be around to take care of you." Something flickered across her face then but it was gone too fast for Ed to recognize. "So today, we're going over your maintenance schedule." Over his groan, she added, even more loudly, "Again." Setting her socket wrench in place, Winry twisted it and the electric pain of his nerves connecting shorted out the rest of Ed's protests.


End file.
